


Breathless

by Deisderium



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2018 [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: By god, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Happy Steve Bingo, Happy Steve Bingo 2018, M/M, Steve Rogers Gets a Hug, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, fluff and nothing but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/pseuds/Deisderium
Summary: Bucky finds Steve after the events of Age of Ultron. Steve's pretty happy about it.





	Breathless

Steve turned over, arm thumping into the hotel mattress. He was two days out of the complete clusterfuck that had been Sokovia, and god, was he tired. He wasn't actually sure why he was awake. He could usually sleep for a full day after a mission if nothing woke him up--

He heard a sound. It was much fainter than the hotel AC or footsteps in the hall, both of which he'd noticed earlier and not bothered to fully wake for. This was made by something in the same room as him, the infinitesimal creak of leather as someone barely moved. 

Steve sat up immediately, dipping an arm over the side of the bed to scoop up the shield. The suit was a lost cause, all the way across the room, but at least with the shield, he could get something between himself and the hostile besides the bedding, his boxers, and his skin. He slung the shield in between his body and the origin of the sound and waited. 

"Always with the drama, Rogers." Steve's breath caught. It was a voice he'd been hoping to hear for just over a year--so much so that he almost doubted his ears. 

"Bucky?" He didn't wait for confirmation. The shield was already sagging in his grip as he scrambled to the edge of the bed. It fell to the thinly-carpeted floor with a muted thunk.

"Yeah, Steve. I'm here." His voice was rougher than Steve remembered it, as though he hadn't been talking much. 

Steve turned toward Bucky, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Bucky was standing at the foot of the bed, just out of arm's reach from where Steve sat on its edge, the mattress bowing beneath him.

The only light came in a thin line from under the bathroom door, but it was enough to pick out the lines of his face, the curve of his jaw and cheekbones, his eyes only dark hollows of shadow.  Steve's breath caught in his throat, a faint imitation of the asthma attacks he'd once had, but this was only emotion, not his body turning against itself. He'd been looking for Bucky for so long, it was hard to believe this was real. He pinched his thigh, hard, and had never been happier to wince at the pain. Not another dream, then.

"Aw, Steve. Don't do that," Bucky whispered.

Part of him wanted to yell, ask him why he'd made him wait so damn long, but mostly, he was rising on a tide of joy, lifted up like a bird on a thermal, soaring over trees, over buildings. Bucky was here. "How've you been, Buck?" His voice sounded thin. It seemed right to return whisper for whisper, but mostly he just couldn't seem to get his voice behind it. 

"Getting better, pal." The air in Steve's lungs left in a wheeze. That sounded like the Bucky he'd known, and for all he'd told himself not to expect Buck to be the same person after all the horrible things that had been done to him, this hit him right in the memories. His fists balled in the sheets as he tried not to let the tears prickling his eyelids fall. 

Bucky was next to him in an instant, the mattress dipping as he sat next to Steve, rubbing his back the way he had in the thirties when Steve was sick, or couldn't breathe, facing whatever indignity his body had served him up. "Hey, Stevie, I thought they were supposed to have fixed all this," Bucky muttered. His hand was hot against Steve's skin, big and strange but familiar too, and after a moment, Steve turned to get both arms around Bucky and pull him closer. 

"They did," he told Bucky's clavicle. "I'm just happy." The end of the sentence came out on a breath that was almost a sob. 

"You don't sound happy, punk." But Bucky's hand didn't stop on his back. He hesitated then slung the other arm around Steve, heavy and unyielding beneath his jacket, but no less welcome. 

"I am." Steve buried his face even further in Bucky's collar, breathing him in, cataloging the changes. He could smell metal, and gun oil, but through it all, the scent that had always meant home to him. "It's just a real big feeling right now." 

Bucky's hands tightened around Steve's shoulders, pulling him up so he could rest his forehead against Steve's. "I'm sorry I took so long. I had to get my shit together, make sure no one could ever use me against you again. They had words in my head. I had to pull them out." 

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," Steve said. "Not to me." 

Bucky snorted. "We can talk about that later." He rubbed his face along Steve's, stubble scraping along Steve's cheekbone. Steve couldn't remember anything ever feeling better. "I saw you on tv," Bucky said. "Fighting robots. Falling cities out of the sky,  _god_. Don't you got anybody to watch your back these days?" 

"Sure," Steve said. "But not like you do."  

Bucky nodded, and Steve felt the movement in his jaw, all through his body. "Well, you got me now. If you want me. I'm still a mess, Steve. I'm not going to lie about it."

"Of course I want you. I'll do whatever I can to help," Steve said. 

Bucky laughed, and the vibration of it slipped through Steve's spine, into the hollow below his ribs. "I never doubted that."

"Don't leave me again?" It came out needier than Steve meant it to. 

Bucky pulled away so he could look at him. The dim light picked out the shine of his eyes but not much more. It didn't matter when Steve could still feel the solidity of his body, more muscular than he remembered, could still smell him. "I won't," he said. 

"Would you--please--" Steve's face was so hot, he was sure Bucky could feel it even if he couldn't see it.

"Anything you want," Bucky said. "Just tell me." 

"Would you stay here tonight? I don't want to wake up and think I dreamed you." 

Bucky pulled away only long enough to shrug out of his jacket, then stretched out on the bed and held his arms open. Steve put his head down on Bucky's flesh shoulder, and both of Bucky's arms pulled him closer. Steve slid one hand under his back and rested the other on his chest. 

"I'm glad you're here," Steve said. Glad was a pale word for how he felt, but it was a start.

"Me too, pal." 

Steve moved his head lower, to Bucky's chest, and listened to the beat of his heart, the movement of air in and out of his lungs. There was so much he wanted to catch up on, and it all started with this: the two of them, together. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this at peace.  

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in my series of Happy Steve Bingo prompts. (The titles will be the prompt unless otherwise noted.)
> 
> They are all unrelated except Steve's happy in them. :)


End file.
